


My heart beats for her and my blood is pumping her name

by PiggyWiggy



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff train, choo choo all aboard the fluff train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 00:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11196885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiggyWiggy/pseuds/PiggyWiggy
Summary: She's coursing through my skin and making her way into my bloodstream.She's tucking away in the corners of my bones and growing roses of blue in my ribcage.They are climbing my torso and getting stuck in my lungs and filling me up with blue, blue, blue.My heart is beating with blue.Marinette was blueBlue like the veins to which I spoke her name from.





	My heart beats for her and my blood is pumping her name

Adrien knew many things.

He had a private tutor who taught him interesting and strange facts that he probably needed in the life that was dictated by his father who used him as a public image.

He knew that the northern leopard frog swallows it's prey using it's eyes, and he knew that the first man to urinate on the moon was Buzz Aldrin, shortly after stepping onto the lunar surface.

He also knew that he loved her.

He knew that he loved Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Some nights, when he was restless and awoke around midnight, he would look at her.

Just sit and look and smile and recount all the many things he loved about her.

Her small smile that would turn into a cheesy grin when talking about Jagged Stone.

Her midnight hair that she kept in pigtails when she was younger and now pulled up into an elegant bun when going to work.  
He loved the way it fanned around her in her sleep, making her look more angelic than ever.

Her eyes that he so deeply adored. Blue and shining and oh so beautiful. They would light up at the sight of her designs on the runway and darken when they got into a petty argument.

He would reach over and trace patterns on her wrists with his finger, following the curve of each pulsing blue line.

He would stare at the bridge of her nose and count the freckles that dotted it, like constellations forming out of sun spots.

He would lay his golden hair on her chest and listen to the sound of her heart beating,

Hoping

Hoping

Hoping that it would beat his name as his had beaten hers.

His heart would always beat for her, no matter if she was throwing a yo-yo atop Paris' skyline or kissing their child's forehead or lying on a bed, her crinkled heart breathing it's last droplets of blood.

His heart would always beat for her.


End file.
